


Golden

by friedhotsauce



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, be prepared for some BADSASS ladies, botfa spoilers?, inspired by 'million dollar baby', post-BotFA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friedhotsauce/pseuds/friedhotsauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To commemorate the one year anniversary of the Durin princes' deaths, Dwalin wishes to host a tournament at Erbor. His efforts turn into reality, but he feels as if he is missing something. There is one more spot to fill in the ladies' fist-fighting show, and he's seen the perfect elf for the position.<br/>What was supposed to be a one time thing, turns into a test of perseverance as dwarf and elf come together for another life altering journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The night guard stood keen and watching as the moon bloomed and the dark swam across the horizon. A very welcomed breeze swirled through the homes of Mirkwood, connecting each elf to sleep with its whispers. Tauriel was curled under her covers as well. With eyes and fists clenched, her ever-open ears heard not lullabies the wind brought to the others, but war-cries and last breaths.   
With that, her mind tunneled back to that day where five armies met and fought. She saw could see nothing, not even herself. Her imagination turned red and the shade grew as the wind shouted a hell she tried to forget.

Unable to keep up within this charade, Tauriel burst awake. She slowly released the grasp on her sheets and hobbled out of her bedroom, as went her nightly routine for almost a year. She tiptoed down stairwell after stairwell, silent and invisible to the night watch. Or so she thought; the guards knew the sound of rushing toes and hovering yawns, and could always catch a wisp or two of red in the air. But of course no one would ever say so, not to her at least.

Oh yes, they all knew it too well what had transpired that fateful day. The sad demise of what could've been between elf maiden and dwarf prince, became sealed in a song well before Tauriel and her troops had returned from Erebor and Dale. But of course the tune was usually quietly hummed by young wives when washing the dishes, no one would dare to sing the words, not in front of her at least.

Tauriel found herself deep within Mirkwood's wine cellar. Cool and quiet as ever, it was her favorite place to be during these restless hours. She found herself a vacant wooden chalice and helped herself to some the Elvenking's wine; not an unusual thing to do considering her rank, but at this point she was definitely taking more advantage than what was appropriate. Tauriel sipped and scowled at the sourness of her remedy. She was too tired to be picky, so she settled with her share at a wide oak table. Her joints seemed to creak with the chair as she became seated. The soreness of the battle had taken residence in her body and the memory knawed at her brain. Tauriel rested her face in her palms, wishing very hard for some strength to evict her pain. She didn't linger in this, she knew better to keep on. The world doesn't have any more room to harvest her wants. 

Tauriel shook her head, and looked at the wall ahead. It was covered in shadow so her eyes could not trace its intercate pattern as they usually would. She was about to zone out, when something green caught the corner of her eye. She thought it to be a loose curtain, so the elf walked towards the corner of the cellar it seemed to be in to fix it. But this was no curtain  
Tauriel swayed in surprise when she realized what it really was. It hung from a few low-reaching beams in the ceiling by thick wooden chains. It was suspended from the ground a foot by its security. The tall, ample cylinder gently swung side to side in all its emerald glory. This was Tauriel's old punching bag. Tauriel approached it almost fearfully as she steadied its sway. She ran her fingers over the slightly sticky cloth of the form, feeling the soft dents of her training labour. This is how she started, this is how she became Captain of the Guard; by proving herself with this thing that held the weight and height of an orc. Overwhelmed by her discovery, Tauriel placed her forehead on a slight pillowy space. She could feel energy of her youth flowing within the bag and flowing within her, making Tauriel sigh with a lost sunshine in her lungs. But within that instant, she distanced herself. 

With watery eyes, she abandoned the relic again. She wasn't yet ready to try being happy yet. Maybe she'd try tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

The afternoon shone gently on the bark of Mirkwood's palace, filling the great tree and its inhabitants with light and energy, an aura that had skipped over Tauriel, as she was still sealed under her sheets.   
From underneath Tauriel's apartment there was another living space. It was occupied by a long-remaining palace employee, Olanna. She was a sort of handmaiden, but dabbled in all the affairs of the Elevenking's business. The coal-haired elf had been up since before sunrise, scurrying about the palace in her work when she realized she had forgotten her all-important chore list back in her room. On the way to her living quarters, Olanna passed by Tauriel's and saw that she was still held in bed. Putting a pause to her original plan, Olanna slowly wandered into the captain's room, trying to avoid the obstacle course of belongings on the floor. The maid then slid aside the curtains next to Tauriel's bed. Though she was masked by blankets, the power of the afternoon sky managed to sting her eyes. Tauriel groaned and flipped to the other side.

Olanna helped herself to a seat on the mattress. She peeled away at the blanket cocoon and managed to free only a bit of face.  
"Awken sweet one." Olanna crooned in her motherly tone. "The day is nearly gone."  
"That's alright, I'll wake up tomorrow morning then," Tauriel mumbled.  
"You will do no such thing!" Olanna reprimanded, throwing the sheets off of Tauriel in her annoyance.   
The captain turned her head to meet her doting caretaker. Olanna frowned deeply and placed a comforting palm on Tauriel's cheek.   
"Have you cried the whole night sweet one?" Olanna asked upon noting Tauriel's swollen eyes.  
"Only half of it," she said in efforts to downsize the matter.  
"Oh Tauriel, do you not know of the list of people that long to help you from this pit."  
"I can climb out of it myself."  
"Are you certain?" Olanna asked, standing from her seat and extending a hand to the captain.  
"Yes." Tauriel declined the gesture and stood on her own, only wavering slightly. "If I needed help, I'd ask for it." She guided Olanna to the exit, and the maid departed reluctantly.

Well, she was up now so Tauriel decided she was better off getting washed and dressed than going back to bed. She soaked her face in ice water to release her fatigue, but still had no energy to properly fix her hair and settled for a full braid. She skimmed off her night dress and pulled on her uniform. Before leaving her apartment, Tauriel glanced into her only mirror which she had broken in an emotional outburst months ago. She took in her dismal sight and looked away ashamed. She had not the heart to throw it out nor fix it.

For almost a year, Tauriel's life in Mirkwood had been fleeting. Her place in the guard was not diminished but rather vacant, but would only hold room for her. If she left her apartment, her day would be spent wandering the halls and avoiding people. So much of her time has been aimless and wasted, and everyday she felt the sting of the time lost, but that only made the captain spiral further.   
But this time seemed a little different. Today she had a goal. Again, Tauriel wound down the path to the cellar and strode over to her familiar corner. It was still quiet in the area, and for once she felt safe and almost at peace. Tauriel sucked in a deep breath and decided to open herself up to the joy of her past. She touched her forehead to the punching bag again, this time with an air of respect as if it was a living opponent.

In her pocket lay strips of cotton. Pale and ready to be used. The captain cracked a smile to herself as a rising excitement started to bubble from within. She wrapped her knuckles, palm and wrist firmly to lock them in place. Tauriel flexed her hand to comfort and prepared a fist. Knees bent, legs standing with width, one foot slightly ahead of the other, Tauriel wound back her dominant fist and swallowed a breath before charging to the bag. She counted aloud, "1...2...3..."  
"Tauriel?"  
The captain dropped her stance and swiveled around to the voice. The anger was crystal in her eyes, and the servant that had called to her tripped back in fear.  
"Forgive me my lady, I meant not to interrupt. My lord Thranduil requests an audience with you."  
"Tell him I will arrive soon."  
"He wishes to speak with you at once!"  
Tauriel groaned internally and her active brain resumed to its dullness. She shed her wrappings and proceeded upstairs with the servant, glancing forlornly at her punching bag all the while. Tauriel wasn't she if shed ever have the hunger to practice again.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you no longer wish to be the captain of my guard Tauriel?"   
Tauriel lifted the veil of her hair from her eyes. The nervous servant that had escorted her to the Elvenking's lair had disappeared before they reached the door. Tauriel alone entered, and she remained alone with Thranduil and his famous glare.   
Tauriel looked up, and saw the ice of her Lord's eyes melt into the softest pool. "Tauriel?"  
Since showing his lighter side during Tauriel's mourning at the fighting's end, he had been on a streak of smiles and gentle speaking. He seemed healthier and radiated with a strength nobody had ever seen before. Everyone was happy for him just as he was happy with everyone. As for Tauriel, she absorbed not the constant sun, but the few clouds that loomed over her.

"Forgive me my Lord. To be the captain of your guard still means the world to me."  
"Then are you able to explain your lengthy absence?"  
Tauriel dropped her head again. How could she tell the Elvenking about the demons in her head. Though he had worn his change on his sleeve, the captain found it better to be weary so she could guard her heart from further breaking.

Thranduil took the long silence as her response, and introduced his ultimatum. "Tauriel, you know very well that everyone who resides here must carry their share. This palace may be a sanctuary, but it has its burdens."  
"I understand." Tauriel whispered through her teeth.  
"If you are not willing to participate in combat, I can assign you elsewhere that is more to your comfort."  
The captain could feel her title, all her work and training, slowly slip from her grasp. But for once, her mind slowed enough to listen to Thranduil's words.  
"If it suits you, we are in need to see through the trades between here and Dale. Do you consent to this?"  
What choice did she have but to agree? She had no other talents or knowledge that could be put to use.  
"I consent."  
Thranduil smiled as if he had completely solved all of her problems. But this wasn't even the start. "Good. You depart tomorrow at daybreak, I would appreciate your punctuality."  
"As you wish."  
"You are dismissed."

Tauriel exited with what little grace she could muster, then broke down at the other side of the wall. She slid down to a cold seat and let her new disappointment take control. She grew pale in the face as she fell limp and numb. Was this what Kili felt as he began to die?

Just then, a sharp nudge forced her to rise to the surface, though Tauriel desperately wanted to stay down.  
"Lady Tauriel?" A wide-eyed servant squeaked. Her clammy hands had a tight grip on Tauriel's shoulders and she shook them with her fright.  
"I'm alright, I'm alright," Tauriel breathed as she patted the maids arms in reassurance.  
"Can I get you some water my Lady? Do you require a healer?"  
"No, no I'm alright.  
The servant helped steady Tauriel to her feet and after a few more exchanges, the demoted captain trailed to the cellar yet again.

" 1...2...3...4," Tauriel counted through gritted bone as her hands scurried for the cloth in her pockets.   
"5...6...7..8," she wrapped the cotton tight. It hurt and relieved all at the same time.  
"9," Tauriel jumped from the staircases, across the planks of the cellar, and to her sacred corner.   
She greeted her old friend with a long lost grin, feeling a fight budding from within.  
Suddenly, she saw across the floor, shadows upon shadows. Tauriel whipped around to see a crowd of her colleagues. And just as fast as it had started, her energy faded. Scowling, Tauriel ripped off her bindings and stomped through the crowd. They parted for her and soon began to leave themselves. The captain stopped as the room became vacant. Finally.   
"10." Tauriel whipped through the new silence and forced her saw knuckles into the skin of the punching bag. She could feel its fabric split to make room for her force. The softness inside welcomed a new indent. She dropped her trembling fist. She reveled in satisfaction, but something felt off. Tauriel looked to her hand and watched rings of purple stretch across her knuckles. She should've been more careful.

Tauriel winced as Olanna patted her knuckles with a pack of ice.  
"Tell me sweet one, how did this become of your hand?" Olanna asked with worry.  
Tauriel drew her mouth in a half smile. "I found my old punching bag in the cellar."  
The maid paused and looked to Tauriel with her brows heightened. "Really?"  
"Yes. It was last night. I was wandering the corridors late at night and then traveled to the cellar. I took a seat for a minute, then from the corner of my eye," Tauriel motioned her finger from the side of her eye to the front of her room, and Olanna's glance followed. "I saw it swaying."  
"Swaying?"  
"Yes."  
"Was there a door open?"  
"No, and there was no breeze to be felt."  
Now this had become something more. Olanna just knew it and Tauriel couldn't help but think so too.

The maid continued to tend to the bruises. "So, what will you do now, sweet one?"  
"Nothing."  
"Nothing?"  
"Nothing besides what my Lord Thranduil asks of me."  
"And what is that?"  
"To see over the trades between Mirkwood and Dale. I depart at sunrise."  
"For how long will you be away?"  
"I am unsure."  
The elves sat in a sad silence as Olanna anointed Tauriel's knuckles with medicinal cream, and finished with a cold wrap. The dark-haired elf stood up and collected her supplies, then showed herself to the door.  
"Olanna?" Tauriel called out. Her voice was heavy with emotion.  
"Will you stay with me? I still cannot bear to sleep."  
"Of course sweet one." Olanna glided back to Tauriel, and kissed her upon her forehead. "Mother will stay until you sleep."  
And Olanna was true to her word. She sat beside Tauriel and hummed into her the fire of her hair, until the captain finally was at rest.


	4. Chapter 4

Dwalin excitedly stashed away the ink and pen he was writing with in the desk's drawer. He looked at the parchment he had just written upon, picked it up to scrutinize the details, then put it down again. He did this a few more times until his brother, Balin entered the candlelit office. The white-haired dwarf didn't mind his brother as he also had matters to attend to. He gathered what papers and inks he needed and turned for the door again.  
"Wait Balin!"   
The old dwarf sighed in annoyance and trudged to his brother.  
"What is it?"  
"Listen to this," Dwalin announced as he read from his wrinkled paper. "So I've listed Katarina of the Pearl-nose clan with Vena Bluefingers."  
Balin gave an approving nod. "That'll do nicely."  
"And Polly of the Fiddlehead clan is paired with Oxina Rockmortar."  
"Now that will be quite a show!" Balin commented.  
"And just listen to this one: the Trottsdale sisters."  
"Who are they with?"  
"Each other."  
"Each other! Dwalin, that is one of the biggest mistakes you could ever make! They already hate one another enough without us having to start something."  
Dwalin's excitement dissipated, but he relented to his elder brother. "Fine then, what do I do with them?"  
"Keep them together, and have the Speckle cousins verse them."  
Dwalin had to admit that was a better idea, but he would never let his brother come to know that. So he rolled his eyes and scratched out the previous plan, replacing it with the new one.  
Balin looked over his younger brother's shoulder and gave a curt nod.   
"Much better. But what of the elves?"  
"Elves?"  
"That is what I said."  
"Now why would elves want to set foot into a dwarfish party? One that celebrates the memory of our fallen Durins no less."  
"Because it shows unity, Dwalin. It tells the world that we dwarves are well over the feud with the elves."

Dwalin scowled at his brother's informational tone. This celebration of their beloved deceased princes should be a strictly dwarvish affair. The food and drink would be dwarvish, the music would be dwarvish, and those fighting in the tourney would be dwarvish.   
"Trust me brother, this is for the best," Balin affirmed as he left the room.   
Dwalin scratched at his tired head, and crumpled up his previous plan of the tourney. Elves, elves, those damned elves. He needed some and fast. The bare minimum he needed wouldn't be of too much trouble to attain. Many rogue and free spirited elves roamed around Dale, and if he made his way out now, he could catch them a few. Dwalin picked himself up and head out of his confinement. He stopped by at Erebor's exit to arm himself appropriately, and journeyed to the nearby city of men.


End file.
